


Business Attire

by blakefancier



Category: Captain America (2011), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Power Imbalance, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:23:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pepper never backs away from a challenge and Howard just likes to watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Business Attire

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, my loyal readers. I just don't know. I was thinking about werewolf!Howard and omega!Howard last night and somehow a Howard/Pepper idea snuck in there. The next think I know, I'm running through scenes and then I mention it to my partner-in-crime. What does my PIC do? Does she dissuade me? No, because she is a cruel, cruel woman. 
> 
> So, anyway, this happens. And so now it's a thing. It's a porny, porny thing. 
> 
> Anyway, this is seriously AU (because of course it is).
> 
> I am sorry.

Pepper Potts has a rule: she never sleeps with her bosses. Of course, Howard Stark isn't her boss. And what they do together would never be categorized as sleeping. 

The first time it happens, she's only got a few months under her belt. But since she's Tony Stark's personal assistant, it already feels like years. 

It's mid-afternoon on a Friday and Tony's already hidden himself in his workshop, so when she gets the summons, she's alone. She doesn't keep Mr. Stark waiting; this may be her first real job, but she isn't stupid. 

Mrs. Abernathy announces her, then ushers her into the office, leaving her to her fate. She stands in the middle of the room, hands clasped together. Mr. Stark is sitting at his desk, concentrating on the files in front of him, completely ignoring her. She shifts her weight, fighting back a frisson of annoyance; she's got work to do too.

Finally when she can't stand it anymore, she clears her throat and says, haltingly, "Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Stark?"

He looks up at her, surprised, and sets down the papers. He considers her a moment, then gets to his feet and walks up to her. "You graduated from NYU four months ago."

"Yes, sir, I did. With a degree in Business Administration."

Mr. Stark looks her up and down, slowly, a slight sneer on his face. "Are you finding that degree useful, Miss Potts?"

He face heats because she knows what he thinks, what everyone thinks: Tony does love a pretty face. "It's *Ms.* Potts, Mr. Stark. And I find it very useful." 

"Yes, my son can be very challenging." Mr. Stark slowly circles her.

She clenches her hands and fights the urge to storm out; the look on his face is calculating, cold. 

"I tried to dissuade him from hiring you. Miss Potts." He stops and steps close; they don’t quite touch. "He needs a firm hand; one I'm not sure you can provide."

Pepper lift her chin and stares up at him; he's so close she can feel his breath on her face. "I'm up to the challenge, sir. I can handle anything your son dishes out."

"And what about what I can dish out, Miss Potts?" He says, soft and dangerous, his gaze holding hers. 

Something hot twists in her belly and she lets out a small gasp. Before she can change her mind, she steps forward, pressing herself against him. "Does it matter what I say, Mr. Stark? You won't be satisfied until you see for yourself." She smirks up at him.

His lips twitch and he takes a step back. "Take off your blouse and skirt."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Stark," she says primly. She doesn't make a show of it, just undresses quickly, places her clothes over the nearest chair, and stands in front of him in her bra, panties, and high heels. He stares at her, just stares at her, and Pepper wonders if he's lost his nerve. It's only been a few years since he lost his wife; she doesn't even know if he's dating again. She supposes that it doesn't matter. "Is that all, Mr. Stark?"

He licks his lips and swallows. "Take off your bra."

Pepper reaches back and undoes the clasp, then slips the bra off. She tosses it with the rest of her clothes. Her nipples harden in the cool of room and she wonders if he's going to touch her now.

"Cup your breasts and pinch your nipples," he says softly.

She does more than that. She kneads her breasts, then tugs and twists her nipples until they ache, until heat pools in her belly and her breath is coming in quick little gasps.

Mr. Stark's face flushes, and his gaze moves over her body hungrily; she squirms at that. "You're soaking your panties."

Damn right, she was. "Shall I take them off?"

"Yeah." He blinks rapidly and looks into her eyes. "Yes."

Pepper slips her fingers under the waistband and pushes them off. She doesn't pick them up when she steps out of them; she leaves them on the floor. "What now?"

"Sit on the desk and spread your knees," he says gruffly.

"Yes, sir." He's watching closely, so she puts a little more roll into the movement of her hips, makes sure her heels clack a bit louder when they meet the floor. She hops up onto the desk, letting out a surprised gasp when her backside touches the cold wood. Then she spreads her legs, as wide as she can while still being comfortable. She's breathing hard and she's so wet that her thighs are slick.

"Now make yourself come."

She shifts a bit; this isn't the best position to masturbate, and trails her fingers over her pussy, letting out a soft little moan.

"No," he says, suddenly, startling her. "I didn't say put on a show. I said make yourself come." 

Pepper presses her lip together. Fine. She lays back on the desk, props her heels up—they make an unhappy sound against the wood— legs still spread wide, and pushes two fingers inside of herself. "Oh!" She fucks herself slowly, rubbing her clit with the heel of her hand. She moans and writhes and complexly ignores Mr. Stark, concentrating on her own pleasure. With her free hand, she plays with her nipples, pulling and scratching on them until they're sensitive to the slightest touch.

As she gets closer, she grows louder, grunting and crying out, grinding herself against the heel of her hand. Until… "Oh, oh, oh!" She arches her body and shudders as she comes. When the pleasure fades to a satisfying burn, she brings her messy hand to her mouth and licks it clean. Then she gets to her feet, feeling a heady satisfaction at the smear of juices and scratches she's left on the desk.

Mr. Stark is watching her, his face sweaty, flushed, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

She dresses slowly, putting herself back together, piece by piece, and when she looks at him again. In that time, he's managed to collect himself, too. "If that's all, Mr. Stark, I do have a job to do." Before he can respond, she turns and heads towards the door.

"Ms. Potts," Mr. Stark calls out; she stops and looks over her shoulder. "You left a mess on my desk."

She raises an eyebrow. "Yes. You should probably get someone to take care of that."

His laughter follows her out the door.


End file.
